


Stalking Horse

by Dizzojay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Kelpies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzojay/pseuds/Dizzojay
Summary: The brothers investigate mysterious shenanigans at a beautiful mountain lake resort.The story has no specific reference to canon, and rated T for a little bit of gore and a few naughty words.Amazing banner and chapter headers artwork by millygal





	1. Chapter 1

 

Fall had swept like an artist's palette over the beautiful mountain town of White Lake. Nestling into the lap of the Rockies, and surrounded by shimmering banks of russet, gold and green, the town clung to the edge of the milky blue-white glacial lake which provided its name.

Tourist brochures were full of words like 'breathtaking', 'magnificent', and 'natural splendour'. They spoke of the outdoor sports opportunities, great food and warm welcome that awaited the thousands of visitors to White Lake.

What the brochures conveniently omitted to mention was that along with its sporting opportunities, great food and warm welcome, the town also currently boasted twelve missing persons, a lot of powerless and baffled authorities and a whole population living in fear and dread.

xxxx

On this crisp and cloudless Fall day, the hundreds of visitors to White Lake went about their individual business; walking, picnicking, souvenir shopping and availing themselves of the well documented good food and warm welcome. In the midst of all this benign activity, a group of fishermen and kayakers were engaging in a heated discussion with a ranger because the lake was out of bounds until further notice due to some 'environmental survey'.

No one took any notice of two guys sitting on a bench huddled over a laptop; one staring intently at the screen, the other's eyes following a pair of shapely butt-cheeks which had just jogged by in tight, black lycra.

"It has to be something to do with the lake" muttered Sam, staring at multiple news headlines on the screen, "five fishermen, a picnicking couple, and two kayakers among those who have gone missing," he scratched his head; "but this could be anything, there are dozens of malevolent spirits associated with the water; we're gonna need to … Dean?"

No response was forthcoming.

"Dean!"

"Dude, did you see the ass on that that just went by? " Dean sighed in admiration, "jeez, like two rabbits in a bag having a fight."

Sam glared, "Dean, have you heard a word I said?"

"Sure I have", he tore his eyes away from the distant silhouette as it disappeared over the horizon, and reluctantly turned back to Sam; "we've got ourselves a whole bunch of missing dudes and a serial killer Loch Ness Monster to hunt."

"Uh, Dean - you would only find the Loch Ness Monster in Loch Ness …"

"Yeah, whatever, bro'", Dean glanced over his shoulder, "an' right now you're only gonna find me in that diner over there. There's a double deluxe bacon cheese burger on the menu with my name on it".

He got up and strode away, punching Sam on the shoulder to follow him.

xxxxx

The following evening, the brothers were settled in their room at the Mountainside Motel. Dean sat on Sam's bed, tossing peanuts into his open mouth. The stray nuts scattered all over the pillows spoke of his limited success.

"I know what we're dealing with," Sam looked up from his laptop.

That morning had seen the brothers, posing as Agents Ulrich and Hammett, paying a productive visit to the local Sherriff's office. He had imparted the as-yet-unreleased news that two unidentified bodies, or at least what was left of those bodies, had been found floating in the lake.

Eaten, he had said; the bodies had been eaten. That's why they didn't want to release the news until they knew more; didn't want a panic. They could only theorise what happened to the other missing people … but the best guess was that whatever snacked on these two finished the job with the other ten.

Local naturalists were baffled, the number of disappearances and the damage weren't consistent with bear or cougar attacks and they knew there was nothing living in fresh water big enough to do that sort of damage; the eviscerated corpses were a theoretical impossibility. The authorities were spinning a yarn that the water was out of bounds due to environmental surveys until further notice. Until someone figured out what the heck was going on.

"It's a Kelpie," Sam announced confidently.

Dean looked up from his beer bottle; "a what?"

"A Kelpie," Sam repeated; "a faerie water horse".

"A flesh eating, psycho faerie water horse?" Dean queried, "Dude, just when I thought our lives couldn't get any weirder!"

Sam took a mouthful of pizza, "they were just ordinary horses once, that strayed into the faerie world. When they return to this world they appear in the water as beautiful creatures that mesmerise anyone who sees them". He took a swig of beer, "if you fall under their spell, basically, you're screwed!"

Dean looked at him, an expression of saucy glee on his face, "by a horse?"

Sam snorted, "can we keep our minds out of the gutter?"

Dean sniggered at his own joke as Sam continued; "if you fall under its spell, it drags you down under the water and eats you - with the exception of your liver." Sam paused to let the words sink in.  
"The bodies", Dean gasped "all their internal organs were missing, except …"

"… their livers." Sam completed the sentence.

Dean shook his head, "goddamn' faeries" he grunted, "vindictive little bastards; why can't they just leave people alone?"

Sam shrugged, "The lore says that this used to be their world before we turned up, I suppose they're just pissed that we came along and spoiled it for them!"

"Times move on," snapped Dean; "hasn't anyone ever told them that?"

"Has anyone ever told your music collection that?"

"Shaddap!"

xxxxx

The brothers ate the remainder of their pizza in silence; Dean eventually spoke up, "So, how do we send this nag to the glue factory then?"

"There's tons of lore," Sam replied; "but the most common theory is that if it can be harnessed by a mortal man, it will lose its faerie powers and transform back into a harmless ordinary horse."

Dean stared at his brother. "Have you ever harnessed a horse - supernatural or otherwise?

"Nope!" smiled Sam.

"Great", Dean sighed, "better take plenty of sugar lumps with us!"

xxxxx

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door to 'Harpers Saddlery' opened with a creak and a tinkle and the brothers were immediately hit by the overwhelming aroma, beloved of all equestrians, of new leather and saddle soap.

A wiry, weatherbeaten man; Harper, they presumed, greeted them economically.

"What can I do for you boys?"

Sam spoke up, "uh, we'd like to buy a bridle." He tailed off, his entire repertoire of equestrian technical terms exhausted.

"What sort?" asked Harper, gesturing to an entire wall hung with countless leather strappings and metal buckles; the sort of arrangement which in other environments would make Dean's eyes light up.

"One for a horse," said Dean in complete seriousness.

Harper gazed levelly at them. The look on his face said, "I've got a right pair here!"

"What kinda bit d'ya need?"

Dean stared at him; "all of it, of course!"

Harper sighed.

"I mean, what ya using it for? Racin', showin', schoolin'?"

Sam made an attempt to rescue the situation. "We're not riding the horse, we just want to lead him around. Nothing ambitious."

"Then you boys don't want a bridle, you want a halter."

"Uh, okay," came the stereo response.

xxxxx

A further two days of research had Sam bombarding Dean with a mind-boggling array of facts about the most likely location for their target; these things are shy and solitary, they are only active at dawn and twilight, they are attracted by certain plants, they are repelled by others, they can't stray too far from the water …

Sam eventually slammed the laptop shut and turned to Dean, "Right, we're looking for a secluded area away from the tourist trail, there'll probably be some kind of cave, it'll probably be surrounded by ferns, there might be an oak tree nearby, and it'll be very close to the edge of the lake".

Dean stared at him. "Not a lot to go on Sherlock …"

xxxxx

"Dude", groaned Dean; "we've been traipsing round this lake for friggin' hours!" He sighed dramatically, "we must have done at least two circuits."

Sam pointedly ignored him and forged on ahead, clambering over rocks and spongy pads of moss, pushing low hanging branches out of his face.

"An' it's hours since I had a decent drink …"

Sam held the water bottle back for his brother to take. Dean caught up and took it without thanks, taking a long swig; he grimaced.

"Ah heck … I said a DECENT drink!"

Sighing again, Dean resumed his unenthusiastic trudge.

A moment later, he barrelled straight into Sam's rock-solid back. "Hey, man!" he snorted; "wanna let me know when you're planning on stopping and blocking the path?"

Silence.

"Dude?" He glanced over Sam's motionless shoulder … and froze.

There in front of them was a small clearing inamongst the countless fir trees, its floor carpeted with ferns. It looked out over the lake and was bordered on its south side by a rocky outcrop which was fractured by a narrow grotto. The rocky outcrop was crowned by an oak sapling - possibly the only deciduous tree in sight.

The brothers stared until Dean broke the silence.

"Holy crap!"

xxxxx

The Winchesters settled down on the shore of the lake close to the clearing, "well it’s about twilight" muttered Dean, rummaging in his pocket for a half-eaten chocolate bar; "if Mr Ed's going to show his face, he'd better get on and do it now!"

"If he doesn't, we'll have to stay here until dawn." replied Sam, unfolding the halter in readiness.

Dean scowled, "another reason why I'm going to kick his flea-bitten ass when I see him!"

xxxxx

_Two hours later …_

Dean breathed a puff of vapour into the cold night air. "It's freakin' freezing'!" he said, pulling his jacket tighter around him and shivering slightly. "I can't feel my ass any more - isn't there something softer than this damned log to sit on?"

"Dude," Sam turned to Dean, "will you give it a rest? You've done nothing but moan and complain this whole job!"

"Well," snorted Dean, "I don't do freakin' nature!" He cupped his hands and breathed into them, "it's cold, and uncomfortable, and dirty, and some crappy thing is always tryin' to bite you or sting you or ooze mucus on you."

Sam grinned, rolling his eyes; "jerk" he muttered, receiving a poke in the ear for his trouble.

xxxxx

_Four hours later …_

"Dude, that doesn't look anything like a flying horse!"

The Winchesters were passing the time trying to identify the constellations.

"If you turn and look at it from this angle," Sam craned his head grotesquely as if he was limbo dancing, "you can see it, look … there's its neck and head and two front legs, see?"

Dean squinted but didn't look convinced.

"Man, I'd love to know what the dude who decided that looked like a flying horse was tripping on."

xxxxx

_Eight hours later …_

Dean opened bleary eyes after a fitful nap to see the Sun appearing over the mountain peaks, bathing the whole lake in an ethereal dawn light. A light mist hugged the lake's shores, drifting lazily around the edge of the mirror-smooth water, coating everything it touched in a crystalline layer of sparkling dew.

Dean took in the sight and decided that maybe nature wasn't so bad after all.

He stretched out stiff cold joints, flinching as his protesting shoulders cracked and popped, and walked slowly down to the lake's edge.

The mist swirled around his ankles, muffling the crunch of his boots on the damp shale.

It was then that he saw it.

It stood in the water a short distance away from him, gazing at him with soft liquid eyes. Its coat of gunmetal grey had a satin sheen which glistened and shimmered with the Sun's light.

Its mane and forelock, as pale as ivory, ran continuously with water which trickled softly over its dappled neck and chest, pattering into the water around its strong, slender legs.

The two held each other's gaze; long, pale lashes swept over deep brown eyes; long dark lashes swept over deep green eyes.

It gave a soft huff and bowed its head, pawing at the bed of the lake, the muscles of its withers and back twitching and fluttering as it moved.

Dean stared. Rendered insensible, his world shrank to this moment. There was no Sam, no Hunt, no Impala; just him and this magical being in front of him.

The horse gave a soft snort and bowed its head again, maintaining its hypnotic gaze.

It was in that moment that Dean knew with sadness that even if he lived forever, he would never see such captivating beauty again.

xxxxx

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam drifted awake from what had possibly been the most uncomfortable night's sleep he had ever endured; opening his eyes, he abruptly closed them again against the vivid glare of the low dawn Sun.

Stretching stiffly, every bone in his body felt like it had been run over. He rolled over expecting to see his brother's spiky crown on the other side of the log where he had dozed off, instead he saw Dean's discarded overshirt – a makeshift pillow - but no Dean.

Blinking back tears as his eyes acclimatised to the glare, he made out a dark shape. As the shape drifted into focus, he saw it was his brother, standing facing the lake. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again.

Then, he saw the other figure in the water; his heart stood still.

"DEAN" he shouted, "DEAN!" again, louder - this time more like a scream.

xxxxx

Dean stood helpless, drinking in the Kelpie's beauty like a fine wine.

He heard a voice behind him; a voice that came from somewhere else; somewhere that didn't include this exquisite being; somewhere that didn't matter.

The voice was calling his name. His name didn't matter; the voice didn't matter; the only thing that mattered was being close to the goodness and purity which ebbed and flowed from this magical creature like the milky water of the lake.

He took a step forward.

xxxxx

Sam scrambled to his feet, ignoring the stiffness of his cold bones. He felt in his shirt pocket for a tiny leather pouch; stuffed with pepper, primrose petals and mustard seeds – according to Bobby, all generally held to be repellent to the fae. He knew he was protected against the Kelpie's influence.

A terrible thought struck him and drove a cold spike of fear down his spine. He picked up Dean's discarded overshirt, feeling the pockets, and felt another pouch in the pocket.  
Dean was facing the Kelpie with no protection.

Frantically tipping the contents of his bag out over the ground, Sam grabbed a wrought iron bar Bobby had advised him to bring. Bobby had explained that iron, being a pure product of the Earth, was harmless, even beneficial to the fae. Wrought iron, however, tempered and bastardised by mankind, was repellent to them.

Grasping his only weapon, Sam sprinted toward the lake.

xxxxx

Dean was oblivious to the frigid water lapping around his shins as he waded further into the lake toward the Kelpie. It stood, aloof and serene awaiting him, pawing elegantly at the water, its soft brown eyes inviting him to approach.

By the time he reached it, he was almost waist deep in the icy water.

He leaned into the creature, breathing in its rich essence of pine and meadow grasses.

Pressing a peach-soft muzzle into the crook of his neck, it whittered softly as his hands stroked the contours of its elegant head. Hot breath tickled his throat, as he closed his eyes and leaned heavily against its cold satin-smooth hide.

Then it tossed its head viciously and grasped Dean's arm in its mouth.

xxxxx

Dashing into the lake, Sam gasped as the bitterly cold water flooded into his boots, he saw the Kelpie rear, and lunge into the lake dragging Dean along with it.

He was chest deep in the water before he saw both figures disappear under the surface. The bitter cold was constricting his lungs; he could barely breathe and yet, it was all he could do not to cry out in pain, but he knew what he had to do.

Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the burning in his lungs, he plunged under the water.

xxxxx

Dean felt the icy water close over his head. His despairing cry was lost in the rushing torrent as the Kelpie dragged him down, his lungs constricting in agony as he struggled furiously against its grip. The frigid water burned and stabbed like a thousand ice cold knives tearing at his writhing body.

He opened his mouth again and gave a last desperate soundless cry for help, his struggles weakening as lack of oxygen consumed him.

He convulsed violently as the freezing water assaulted his body. In his confusion, he thought he felt the Kelpie release its grip, thought he felt himself tumbling as if in a whirlpool and then suddenly there was no pain, no cold …

Just dark silence.

xxxxx

A roar of pain escaped Sam as he dove beneath the icy water.

He had to surface to take a gasping breath to alleviate his body's shock, before he submerged again.

His inordinately long limbs and large flat feet had not always been an advantage to him, but in water, they came into their own. A collection of swimming medals from his time at Stanford was testament to that, and soon he was powering through the water almost apace with his quarry.

Visibility was poor in the mineral rich water, but Sam kept sight of the silvery grey form beneath him, and he realised he had to act now. Adrenalin surged through his body and he surfaced one last time to take a deep breath before diving down as fast as he could, using the wrought iron rod as ballast.

He prayed he had calculated this correctly, he only had one shot at this. As the dark shape passed under him, he released the rod. It fell through the water and caught the Kelpie on the haunch.

The Kelpie squealed and disappeared into a thunderous burst of foam.

Ignoring the intolerable pain in his chest, Sam swam down and grasped the limp, motionless body of his brother, tumbling over and kicking hard for the surface.

The two heads broke the surface seconds later. Sam yawned a massive, wheezing breath as his abused lungs fought to take in air.

He swam until he could feel the lake bed beneath his feet, then dragged Dean bodily out of the lake and onto the bank.

He knelt over the prone body, "C'mon dude" he gasped, feeling Dean's neck for a pulse and pressing his hand against his brother's chest, he could feel no evidence Dean was breathing.

"Please, Oh God, please – BREATHE" he sobbed, pumping hard on his brother's chest, watching as water bubbled and trickled down his brother's chin from over still, blue lips.

He gently tipped Dean's head back, wiping the soaked hair away from his forehead, blanching at the waxy, expressionless face. He cupped Dean's face between his hands. 

"please …" he whispered, "please …"

He thumped Dean's chest again, another trickle of water escaped from his open mouth.

Leaning, over, he pinched Dean's nose and began to breathe for him, watching his brother's chest expand as the air filled his lungs.

"Don't do this to me …" he muttered incoherently, "no, no … don't do this …", he pumped frantically, until suddenly there was a ragged wet gasp, and Dean's eyes flicked open. He coughed violently and spluttered, as Sam grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up to lean against his own body.

"Hey, dude" sobbed Sam, his chin resting on his brother's soaking hair, "welcome back". He rubbed his brother's heaving chest.

"S-Sam …" croaked Dean, between choking gasps.

"Ssshhh – don't talk!" Sam soothed, "just try to breathe."

It was then Sam noticed that Dean had lost his jacket in the water and was clad only in a soaking T shirt. It was easy to miss his violent shaking between the racking coughs and gasps.

Sam grabbed Dean's discarded overshirt and tossed it over him.

Sam also realised that Dean wasn't the only one shaking with cold; he himself was also soaked and freezing.

He had to get them both back somewhere warm and dry …

… and he had to do it now.

xxxxx

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam held onto his shivering brother and weighed up his options; they were in the middle of nowhere, soaked and freezing. Even an ambulance wouldn't be able to get to them here, the Impala was parked - Sam's best guess - about five miles away; Dean had almost drowned, and he wasn't walking anywhere anytime soon.

He leaned down to look at his brother, wiping Dean's pallid forehead to keep water from dripping in his eyes. Dean was clutching his chest, gasping for precious breath and muttering incoherently against Sam's shoulder; okay, thought Sam, you could add delirious to hypothermic and drowned. Just damned great!

That was before he thought about his own condition; his teeth were chattering so hard, he was afraid the tip of his tongue might disappear, and although he was better off than Dean, that would all change if he didn't get some warmth into his bones soon.

Sam knew he had only one option; he picked up his phone and dialled Bobby's number...

xxxxx

Sam hoisted Dean's limp weight into his arms and staggered across to the grotto in the rocky outcrop at the side of the clearing. There was enough room in there for the two of them and a small fire. The fissure which formed the grotto was high and Sam hoped it penetrated through the rocks somewhere to create a chimney.

He decanted Dean inside the small cavern, leaning him against the wall; "hey dude, I'm g-gonna make a fire for us" he continued, "I phoned B-Bobby and he's on his w-way, be with us in a few hours".

Dean grunted as a violent shiver racked his chilled body, "h-horse," he whispered.

"I g-gave it a shock an' sent its ass away for a while!" reassured Sam, shivering so hard he could barely string two coherent words together. He began gathering deadfall as fast as his numb hands could manage. He knew that the kelpie would be back, and he hoped that it wouldn't be before Bobby got to them, but that if necessary the contents of the pouches that Bobby had made up for them would be enough to protect them while they waited.

Sam swore as his hands shook so violently as he tried to light the fire, he dropped the Zippo twice. Eventually the fire caught and he nurtured it until he was confident it wouldn't go out. He pulled off his soaked shirt and jeans with a struggle as they stretched and clung to his cold, wet body and knelt down before Dean. "c'mon dude, lets g-get these wet things off."

He worked Dean out of his soaked clothes stopping to examine the heavily bruised graze on his arm where the Kelpie had held him, then slid in behind him, pulling him in close, icy cold skin pressing against icy cold skin, hearts beating in unison. He rubbed shaking hands up and down Dean's arms, chest and stomach, as if trying to massage the heat from the little fire back into their frozen bodies.

They were both shivering violently; that was a good sign Sam told himself. What wasn't so good was Dean's uncharacteristic silence, no doubt a side effect of the hypothermia, but still Sam felt uneasy. His Dean radar had been beeping ever since he had stumbled into the grotto with his incoherent brother. He had seen Dean hypothermic before and something about this whole affair made him feel uncomfortable. Sam never thought he would hear himself wishing that Dean would come out with one of his smartass inappropriate comments, but right now, he would give anything to be called a bitch again.

"H-h-horse" …

"He's gone," Sam reassured, "he's gone." he hugged Dean tightly and reached over, placing their water bottle near the fire to provide them with a warm drink, and pulling Dean's overshirt and his own jacket, the only dry items of clothing he could find, across them like a small blanket.

Dean coughed and squirmed back against Sam's chest.

xxxxx

Sam's eyes snapped open when he heard the rustle of undergrowth.

He had lost track of time and had no idea how long they had been in their little bolt-hole. 

Dean was asleep, moaning and whispering miserably, slumped heavily against Sam's shoulder and the fire was little more than smoking embers.

Sam's heart pounded as he leaned sideways to look out across the clearing. Expecting to see a sinister faerie horse, he could have laughed in relief when he saw the grizzled figure of Bobby striding towards them.

Bobby knelt down before the brothers and looked at Sam with a concerned smile.

"So what damn mess have ya pair of idjits got yourselves into this time?"

Not waiting for an answer, he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Crap - too cold," he snorted.

"Dean g-got into trouble in the lake and almost drowned - I h-had to go in after him," Sam mumbled drowsily.

Dean stirred at the sound of Sam's voice; "hmmmm ... h-horse?" he murmured.

Bobby unfolded a blanket he had under his arm and wrapped it tightly round the brothers, then produced a flask from his rucksack and poured steaming brown liquid into the cup. He lifted the cup to Sam's lips, and watched with a smile as Sam drunk the coffee greedily.

He refilled the cup and rubbed Dean's forehead watching the heavy eyes unfocussed open slowly. "C'mon princess, ya need a drink!"

"horse ... ?" croaked Dean.

"Nah, just me!" muttered Bobby.

Dean drank clumsily as Bobby supported his head.

"Right, boys," Bobby stood up with a grunt; "as I'm an employee of the forestry authorities today," he gave them a knowing wink. "My truck is parked up a maintenance track about two hundred yards over in that direction." He gestured towards the west.

He looked at Sam; "can you walk, boy?"

"I think so," Sam responded; "I'm not sure about Dean though".

"If ya can walk, I reckon together, we can manage to carry him to the truck."

xxxxx

Bobby's truck pulled up outside the Mountainside Motel, he climbed out and let himself into their room, cranking the heating up to max before returning to the truck and helping the shivering Winchesters one by one out of the cab and into the room.

"Right," he stood in front of the huddled figures; "you two - warm shower, hot soup then bed."

Sam nodded, and turned to Dean. Dean was staring into his lap, barely acknowledging the existence of Sam and Bobby; a look of heartbreaking emptiness in his eyes. Bobby and Sam exchanged concerned glances.

Bobby heated soup as the brothers took a warm shower and presented them with the steaming bowls as they emerged from the bathroom. Sam took the bowl and, sitting on the edge of the bed, began to eat as if he didn't know where his next meal was coming from.

Dean sat next to his brother and stared unenthusiastically at the bowl offered by Bobby.

"Not hungry," he whispered.

Bobby planted the bowl into Dean's hands; "I don't care, boy; you gotta eat to warm yourself up, so get it down your neck unless you want me to pinch your nose an' force it down you!"

Dean took the spoon and took a few tentative sips of the soup. His face registered neither approval or dislike, just blankness.

Sam watched his brother eat, a heavy knot of apprehension tightening in his chest.

Bobby cleared the bowls away and pulled back the covers gesturing for both brothers to climb into the bed they were sitting on. "You two are sharing a bed tonight - get some body heat transferring between you.

The brothers obediently climbed into the bed, allowing Bobby to tuck the covers over them. "wanna story?" he grinned.

Sam smiled back, "bite me!"

He shuffled up so that Dean's back was pressed tightly against his chest. Snaking an arm over his brother's side, he pulled him in tighter, relishing the smell of his newly washed hair and the heavy beat of his heart.

His heart sank when there was no reciprocation from Dean who simply lay, seemingly oblivious to Sam's presence, whispering absently to himself.

Sam lay quietly and appreciated the warmth seeping back into his bones. He listened to Bobby's snores from the other bed and watched the mesmerising rise and fall of his brother's chest. The softness of the pillow and the heavy drag of sleep on his eyes should have had him drifting off in complete contentment. Instead, that knot of apprehension was still there, tightening and tightening all the time, and he didn't know why.

xxxxx

Sam was woken the following morning by the smell of coffee. He climbed out of the bed and joined Bobby at the table.

The two men sat in silence, glancing occasionally to the softly snoring lump in that remained in the brothers' bed. Eventually Bobby broke the silence.

He leaned towards Sam and spoke barely above a whisper so as not to wake Dean. "You wanna tell me what happened at the lake yesterday?"

Sam put his coffee cup down and nodded.

xxxxx

Bobby's eyes widened in horror as Sam explained how Dean had fallen under the Kelpie's spell, and how he had almost drowned. He told Bobby about the wrought iron rod repelling the Kelpie enabling Sam to drag Dean away.

Sam stopped to take a sip of coffee.

Bobby stared at Sam. "Have you noticed how he hasn't seemed quite 'right' since then?" he asked.

Sam put his coffee cup down. "What're you saying Bobby?"

Bobby sighed; "have you heard the stories about people straying into the faerie world, and tasting faerie food or wine, then wasting away because they spend their entire lives pining for the faerie realm?"

Sam shrugged. "Vaguely," he muttered; "to be honest, we don't get involved with faeries much, don't know that much about them?"

Bobby's expression was verging on panic, "Bobby, what are you saying?"

"Sam," Bobby grasped Sam's wrist; "Your brother is still under that thing's spell".

Sam stared at Bobby.

"As long as that scaly sonofabitch is alive he's gonna pine for it; waste away with longing."

Sam's blood ran cold.

"Sam, that thing will kill him as surely as if it had drowned him yesterday. He'll just fade away and die of a broken heart."

xxxxx

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's breath caught in his throat. "It all makes sense," he whispered.

Bobby looked at him quizzically.

"Horse," said Sam; "ever since I got him out of the lake, practically the only word he's said has been 'horse," he scraped a hand through his hair; "I thought he was saying it because he was frightened it would come back - but he's saying it because he's frightened he won't see it again."

Bobby nodded.

"We've got to kill this thing," Sam blurted, loudly enough to cause his sleeping brother to shift in the bed.

"There's something else you ought to know," whispered Bobby.

Sam stared at him, dreading what he might hear.

"He won't just sit back and wait for it to come to him; he's gonna try and get back to it," Bobby continued; "we can try to keep him on lockdown, but your brother is a regular Houdini at the best of times."

"He'll stop at nothing to find it again. And I mean – nothing." The hidden meaning of that phrase wasn't lost on Sam.

xxxxx

They both turned as they heard a hoarse groan; Dean was sitting up in the bed.

Sam's face softened, along with his voice; "hey, bro' how you doing?"

Dean stared at him as if he didn't understand the question; he rubbed his chest and gave a hollow cough.

"Coffee?" prompted Sam hopefully.

Dean shook his head absently, his gaze never quite meeting Sam's.

xxxxx

Sam and Bobby took the opportunity, while Dean was in the bathroom, to discuss their options.

"If we head over to the lake to finish this thing off, what do we do with Dean?" Bobby speculated; "we can't take him, he'd be a liability - to us and to himself."

Sam thought aloud; "cuff him in the room?"

"Nah, we might be gone hours, even overnight," Bobby continued; "we can't leave him tied up with no food or drink."

"What about sleeping tablets?" Sam suggested; "we can take him with us, so we can keep an eye on him, but keep him drugged up?"

Bobby scratched his head under his hat and sighed heavily; "I don't know, son," he took a long sip on his coffee. "I don't know what to think."

Sam put his coffee cup down abruptly. "I know what I think," a note of alarm sharpening his voice; "I think he's been a heck of a long time in there." They both stared at the bathroom door, then turned to each other.

Sam tapped on the door; "you ok in there, Dean?" No response was forthcoming. "Dean, answer me or I'm coming in."

Still silence.

"Right, I hope you're decent - I'm coming in."

He tried the handle, but the door was locked; he turned to Bobby whose face was pale with dread.

Stepping back, he lunged, shoulder-first towards the door, tearing it from its hinges with a hollow, untidy crash. Stumbling over the wreckage into the bathroom, he scanned the room through drifting dust, pulling back the shower curtain. The room was empty.

His eyes fixed on the window which hung open, its hinges unscrewed. An upturned waste basket stood on the floor beneath it; a makeshift step up to the window.

Sam and Bobby stared, mute with horror.

"Where the hell is he?" croaked Sam, tears of panic and anger welling in his eyes.

"I dunno," replied Bobby; "but I know where he's damn well' going." He sighed. "I guess that's our decision made for us then …"

xxxxx

Bobby and Sam slammed the door to the room behind them. "We'll take my truck," Bobby shouted to Sam, noticing that the Impala was still parked where the Winchesters had left it before the whole nightmare started. "It’s still got my Forestry Authorities badge and all my gear in it."

"Got the harness and the repelling charms?" He yelled as he climbed in the driver’s side.

Sam slid into the passenger side and noticed a stack of wrought iron rods laying across the back of the cab. He turned to Bobby and his eyes asked the question.

Bobby stared at him; "well, let's just say the park authorities back home are probably wondering where their gate is right now!" He shrugged apologetically, and Sam managed a ghost of a smile.

xxxxx

The truck screeched to a dusty halt on the maintenance track where it had picked up two damp, shivering Winchesters less than 24 hours beforehand. Sam tumbled, rather than climbed out of the cab and dashed towards the clearing, with Bobby following, surprisingly fleet of foot for an older man.

When they reached the clearing, it was deserted - no sign of any life; faerie, Winchester or otherwise.

"What do we do now?" asked Sam.

"You tell me, boy," Bobby panted; "we wait and see what happens."

xxxxx

The hours passed, Sam and Bobby sat on the edge of the lake close to the clearing. Bobby stared sympathetically at the agitated younger man.

"Will you sit still, boy, you look like y’got the DT's?"

"Where is he, Bobby?" Sam pleaded; "Why isn't he here?" He stood up abruptly, "We should be out looking for him, not sitting here like a pair of useless lumps."

Bobby pulled him down by the hem of his shirt, "sit y'ass down" he scolded; "I don' know where he is, the same as I didn't know where he was las' time you asked ten minutes ago." He laid a hand tenderly on Sam's back, knowing that the younger Winchester was perilously close to the edge. "We hafta stay here. If we go off looking for him, he's gonna turn up here and no-ones's gonna be here to pull his ass out of that lake!"

Sam looked at Bobby. He knew the older man was talking sense and nodded slowly, chewing his lip anxiously.

Dusk had begun to fall and the sky around the lake had taken on a pink tinge as the shadows began to lengthen. Sam shivered and pulled his shirt collar up around his neck.

"I'm going to the truck to get my jacket," he muttered; "d'y need anything?" He turned to look at Bobby when no response was forthcoming.

Bobby was staring out over the lake; Sam's eyes followed his gaze.

The Kelpie's liquid eyes stared back at them.

xxxxx

It stood in the lake in about the same spot where the brothers had seen it before, its sublime gaze fixed on Sam and Bobby, the hazy, pink tinge of the sky colouring its iron-grey flanks to a softer, dove-grey; the constant trickle of water from its flaxen mane foaming the water around its legs. Sam's hand reflexively shot to his breast pocket and he felt the little pouch that would protect him from its influence.

"What do we do now?" He whispered to Bobby; Bobby spoke without taking his eyes off the Kelpie; "I've got no friggin' idea!"

Sam twitched as he heard a snap of a twig behind him, and turned abruptly to see Dean standing behind them, the now familiar look of utter blankness on his face. 

"Oh, thank God, dude," he sighed; "we were worried sick."

He moved to hug his brother, but Dean stepped around him without even acknowledging him, staring unblinkingly at the Kelpie, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as he walked slowly towards the water’s edge.

Bobby's head spun around between staring at Dean and staring at the Kelpie as it stood in the lake. It pawed at the lake's bed and gave a soft snort.

"It’s calling to him!" Bobby shouted; "you gotta stop him …"

"Dean," Sam called, running after his brother; "Dean, come back. Let’s talk about this." Dean carried on walking, entering the water once he had reached the edge of the lake.

"DEAN!" Sam raced after his brother, and grabbed him round the middle, dragging him bodily out of the water; "Dude, you gotta snap out of it!" his voice was muffled against his brother's hair.

Dean struggled in his brother's strong arms, his struggles violent enough to cause them both to overbalance in the shallow waters at the lakes edge. As they tumbled down, Sam caught sight of his brother's face glaring across at him; it was twisted in hatred and Sam's heart froze when he saw it.

Dean managed to shake off Sam's grip and began crawling forward into deeper water, Sam staggered after him, and grabbed him under the arms, pulling him back toward the bank. Dean screamed, a raw, inhuman howl of anger; writhing and twisting furiously in his brother's arms. An elbow caught Sam in the jaw and loosened his grip enough to allow Dean to slip free.

Bobby watched with horror and began to wade clumsily toward the brothers.

Sam reached out, clutching Dean's shoulder and pulled him back into a body hug, but Dean twisted before Sam could complete the manoeuvre and landed a vicious head-butt straight into Sam's face. Scarlet droplets peppered the icy water as Sam staggered backwards clutching his bruised nose. Bobby tried to grasp Dean's arm but received an elbow in the throat for his trouble. Staggering backwards, Bobby ended up on his ass at the lake's edge.

Striding towards Sam, Dean threw a violent punch, this time hitting Sam square in the bread basket. Sam doubled over with a hoarse grunt, dropping to his knees; still groping frantically through a haze of dazed tears to grasp his brother's flailing arms.

The Kelpie simply stood silent and aloof watching the altercation with gently detached interest, its flaxen lashes fluttered slowly in a lazy blink.

"P-please …" Sam sobbed, trying to reach the brother he knew was there within that mindless shell.

"Plea…" Dean grabbed his throat harshly and forced him down, and down … pushing his head under the frigid water.

Bobby watched in horror as Sam's body thrashed and convulsed as Dean held him with unnatural strength, his face a mask of placid disinterest.

Sam felt his lungs constrict as the freezing water burned his skin. Clawing at his throat and fighting with all his waning strength to lift his head, his hot tears mingled with the icy water - his life was slipping away and it was by the hand of the brother he adored that it would end; that knowledge was more than he could bear.

Suddenly he felt the grip loosen, and a heavy weight splash limply into the water beside him. He scrambled up out of the water retching and gasping wetly for air, and saw the unconscious body of his brother laying in the water at his feet ...

Bobby stood over him holding a wrought iron rod in the manner of a baseball bat.

"I-I didn't know what else to do …" he gasped.

xxxxx

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby and Sam dragged Dean's unconscious form out of the water, laying him out on the loose shale at the lake's edge. Darkness was descending rapidly, only the faintest amber glow over the peaks of the mountains now illuminated the three shivering figures and Sam could feel rather than see the impressive lump that had already erupted on the back of his brother's head. He ran his fingers through the wet hair and examined his hand – it was too dark to tell whether the resulting stain was mud, or blood.

Sam looked up at Bobby, "thanks Bobby", he whispered wetly, still coughing and wheezing through his swollen, bloody nose.

"Kid, if I could have helped you any other way than this, I would have." Bobby's voice cracked and Sam knew that this was one of the hardest things the older man had ever had to do.

"Bobby, I know how you feel about Dean," Sam looked at Bobby who was struggling to hold himself together, and squeezed the older man's shoulder; "he's like a son to you, and I know how that would have hurt you …"

The two men huddled around Dean's inert body.

"That sonofabitch has gone" Bobby muttered, scanning the lake.

"It'll be back at dawn," mumbled Sam, his gaze never leaving Dean's face, now barely visible through the gloom.

Sam felt a blanket being laid across his soaked back, and he pulled Dean up close to wrap it round the both of them. He looked across at Bobby, wrapping himself in a blanket, and deliberately sitting a little way apart from them to give the boys some privacy.

Sam cradled his brother to his chest and rested his throbbing forehead against his brother's, trying to rest his stinging eyes.

xxxxx

"SAM!"

Sam's eyes fluttered open in confused wakefulness. He gasped as a spike of pain shot through his head, "SAM!" A hand shook him roughly, causing the pain to burst in little specks of light before his unfocussed eyes.

"B-Bobby?"

"Sam, LOOK!"

Sam looked to where Bobby was pointing and his heart stood still.

The Kelpie stood on the bank of the moonlit lake; the first time they had seen it out of the water. It was barely an impala's length away from them.

Surrounded by a faintly phosphorescent glow, it stood out in soft relief against the night, the trickling of the constant stream of water down its neck the only sound Sam could hear as it stood motionless, regarding them casually; its eyes never leaving them.

Sam clutched his brother tightly as he felt him start to stir.

Something in the Kelpie's demeanour had changed. its ears lay back flat against its skull and its soft brown eyes had taken on an stark hardness as it stared at them.

Sam scrambled back, away from the hauntingly beautiful figure, dragging Dean with him.

"It knows we won't let him go to it, so it's coming for him," gasped Bobby, squinting through the darkness. Sam nodded mutely as Dean began to fidget, dazed eyes fluttering as he tried to focus his vision on the glowing shape before him.

The Kelpie took a step towards them. It's pale hooves moving on the wet gravel with barely a sound. It gave a harsh snort from flattened nostrils, and tossed its head aggressively, a fine spray of water from its flailing mane creating a crystalline mist around it.

Sam managed to find his feet. He hoisted Dean inelegantly under the armpits and dragged him back to join Bobby beside the truck.

Dean's eyes latched onto the Kelpie's and he began to squirm weakly against Sam's grip.

"We can't fight him as well as that thing," snapped Bobby, gesturing to Sam's struggling brother. Guessing that now was likely to be his only chance before Dean regained something approaching his full strength, he grabbed Dean firmly by the wrist and pulled him away from Sam.

"Bobby? What the hell?" cried Sam.

"Sorry kid, it's for the best!"

Sam heard a click as Bobby, gripping a still dazed Dean across the chest, snapped a handcuff around his wrist with surprising dexterity. He looped the chain around the truck's door frame, and spun the bewildered Winchester around snapping the other cuff behind him on his other wrist.

Sam gaped as Bobby stepped away from Dean, his arms secured behind him; handcuffed to the truck.

xxxxx

Dean took a few seconds to realize his predicament, then he threw his head back and howled; a terrifying cry of rage. He lunged at Bobby, the cuffs painfully jerking his arms behind him; he tried again, screaming in anguish, ignoring the pain spiking through his shoulders and the burning of the metal cuffs around his wrists, he writhed and convulsed like a wild animal trapped in a snare.

Hot tears streamed down Sam's face as his body shook with fear and anger, the sheer terror of seeing his brother tearing himself apart to meet his doom and the blind fury at the cause of it all; this sublime creature that was slowly inching towards them.

His fury turned into insane resolve and he lunged at the Kelpie, hurling one of their protective pouches at it. It staggered backwards with a snort as the leather pouch hit its neck and burst, shaking its head in distress. Sam took the opportunity and rushed, throwing his entire weight at it, totally deaf to Bobby's shocked yell; driven by Dean's desperate wails and his own rage.

He slammed into its silken, ice-cold body, long arms grasping its neck and long, slippery handfuls of mane. It reared in shock, dragging Sam's feet off the ground, but he maintained his grip, using his not insubstantial weight to wrestle it back down.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the bucking and plunging of the creature, twisting its neck, down and down, pressing his full weight harder and harder into it. It squealed and hissed, forelegs splaying under the Sam's weight, hindquarters stamping and kicking, but unable to keep purchase on the loose gravel.

Dean howled and cursed as he thrashed wildly against the handcuffs, reaching out towards the Kelpie's tormented cries for help; blood staining his wrists and pooling in his palms as the tug of the metal cuffs cut and tore his wrists.

Bobby rushed to join Sam, "it’s vulnerable on land," he yelled breathlessly; "it's out of its element!" The combined weight of the two men forced the weakened creature's elegant head onto the ground. Sam slammed a knee onto its throat.

"Bobby, NOW!"

Producing the harness, Bobby worked it over the creature's muzzle, cursing as its head slammed into the ground crushing his hand; he roughly pulled the webbing into in place, and buckled the strap tightly over the back of its neck. The Kelpie whittered sadly and closed its beautiful eyes as if accepting the shame of defeat.

Sam gripped the noseband of the harness, he snarled through gritted teeth … "Let my brother go you freaky faerie sonofabitch!"

The creature gave a laboured wheeze and its long lashes lifted. It gazed up at him, liquid eyes white rimmed with fear, and for just one short moment, Sam's heart sank as he felt the merest hint of compassion for it.

It gave another snort, its body heaving in defeated despair.

A final long breath melted into a gurgle as the creature's entire body dissolved into a mass of water, sending Sam crashing face-down to the ground in the midst of an ice-cold torrent.

xxxxx

Bobby squinted through the moonlight at Sam, sprawled inelegantly in a massive puddle of water, and Sam returned his gaze. Both men stunned into silence by what had just happened.

Returning to his senses with a shake of the head, Bobby offered his hand to help Sam up and they both ran over to the limp figure slumped against the dented and blood-smeared door of the truck, his arms twisted grotesquely behind his back.

Sam crouched down beside his brother. "Dean …?" he spoke softly. The hanging head twitched slightly with a quiet moan.

Bobby leaned over Sam, watching him as he tried again, this time gently ruffling his brother's hair, taking care to avoid the tender spot where Bobby had dropped him with the wrought iron bar earlier.

"Dean …?"

This time the head lifted wearily, unfocussed eyes gazed up at Sam.

"Sam, s'at you?"

xxxxx

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Sam, s'at you?"_

Sam stifled an involuntary sob as his brother spoke his name. "Yeah, dude, it's me," he smiled with overwhelming relief. "Everything's fine now, dude; it's all over."

Bobby grinned, "c'mon boy, let's get you out of those bracelets."

Sam watched queasily while Bobby unlocked the cuffs one by one cringing as the metal separated wetly from raw, bloody flesh.

Once the cuffs were gone, Dean grunted hoarsely as his strained shoulders took the weight of his arms, gingerly bringing his forearms up across his chest trying to find the most comfortable place to nurse his torn wrists and discovering there wasn't one.

Dean looked up at Sam, "Y-you're shiv'rin’," he grasped Sam's shirt, "an' soaked …"

"Long story, dude," smiled Sam.

Dean turned to Bobby, wide-eyed, and received a warm smile. "C'mon y'idjit, we need to get our asses back to the motel and get a hot drink down us!"

Sam and Bobby helped Dean to his feet, and the three men, exhausted, bruised and shivering, stumbled back to the truck.

xxxxx

The motel door opened and the weary Winchester brothers limped into the room, followed by Bobby. Sam sat Dean at the kitchen table and squatted down to look at his wrists.

The light of the motel room highlighted the full extent of the ugly damage. Sam gagged at the sight.

Dean looked at his wrists in squeamish dismay then looked up at Sam.

"Hey, Dean, we need to get these cleaned up," Sam said, far more cheerfully than he felt.

Sam felt strong hands grip his shoulders and spin him in the direction of the bathroom. "You ain't doin' nothin' before you have a hot shower an' a hot drink – you're damned freezing.”

Sam protested, "but, Bobby, what about …"

"What about nuthin'," Bobby scolded, "you’re shivering so hard, you'll hurt him more than you'll help him." 

Sam's indignant glare twitched into a smile.

"I'll sort out his wrists,” Bobby snorted; “… now GIT!"

Sam glanced at Dean who was looking up at him smugly. "Yeah – go on, GIT!" the elder Winchester teased in a plausible impression of Bobby.

Sam grinned, "Bite me!" he mouthed.

Dean looked at his brother's bloodied, bruised nose and swollen, darkening eyes. "Ugh, no thanks – damaged goods," he smiled, but the smile didn't run deep. Deep down, he knew that he was responsible for that damage and that knowledge tore him to pieces.

As Sm turned and headed toward the bathroom, Bobby filled a bowl with warm water and poured a generous amount of pungent antiseptic into it, turning the water milky. He distracted Dean from his unhappy thoughts when he placed the bowl on the table in front of him.

"Okay son, get ya wrists in there."

Bobby tenderly lifted Dean's left forearm, taking the weight so his shoulder didn't have to, and lowered it into the water.

The antiseptic stung murderously on the open wound and Dean used all his self-control not to cry out. He knew to do so would have Sam dashing out of his warm shower to check on him, and that's where the kid needed to be right now, warm and comfortable and taking care of himself, not out here panicking over something he couldn't help.

Dean opened his eyes to see Bobby crouched down next to him looking square in his pain tightened face.

"Okay kid?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," gasped Dean breathlessly.

"Ready for the other one?" asked Bobby.

Dean took a deep breath, "Yeah, as I'll ever be!"

Bobby gently lifted Dean's right forearm and placed it in the water.

Dean buried his face in his shoulder to prevent Bobby seeing his agony as the antiseptic stung and burned the raw wound.

Dean felt Bobby gently splashing the warm water over the backs of his wrists to ensure that both wounds were fully cleaned.

He turned to the older man, "what about your hand?" he asked, looking at Bobby's grazed, swollen fingers, a dark bruise blossoming across them.

"Ah, nuthin' much – just got a bit squashed earlier on." He carried on rinsing Dean’s wrists, and realized Dean was still staring at the back of his hand.

"It ain't broken or nuthin',” he reassured; “I've had worse in the yard – so quit your worryin'!"

Dean smiled up at him, still not convinced.

Bobby tenderly lifted Dean's wrists out of the bowl and carefully laid them on a clean pillow case he found in the room's stash of spare linen. Using it to dab them dry, as gently as he could, he finished the job by bandaging each wrist, carefully and neatly. Dean admired his work; "thanks Florence, great job." Bobby gestured to slap him round the side of the head.

They both turned on hearing the shattered bathroom door creak as Sam stepped out. 

Dean's tortured shoulders reminded him sharply that they weren't going to be tolerating any kind of movement for the foreseeable future, and he let out an involuntary yelp.

Sam was at his side in a moment.

"Shoulders are just a bit stiff, no problem," muttered Dean with a wince, his hunched posture speaking volumes about exactly how 'just a bit stiff' they were.

After a much-needed hot coffee, Bobby got up and stretched; "think I'll turn in guys." He yawned and headed towards the door. The brothers looked at each other; "where you going Bobby?" asked Dean.

"Goin' sleep in the truck – give ya both some space," announced Bobby, gathering up his things.

"No way," both brothers gasped in unison. "You deserve a night in a warm, comfortable bed as well as anyone tonight," Sam added.

Bobby glanced at the room's two beds, and back at the Winchesters.

"We can share," said Sam with a shrug, "It's only for one night, and it’s not like we're strangers or anything."

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean smiled mischieviously, "only, you haven't let him eat any burritos today, have you?"

Bobby shook his head with a smile.

"Cos, if you have, you can share with him – I'll sleep in the truck!"

Sam scowled and drilled a bent knuckle into his brother's tender shoulder.

"Owww … bitch!"

Bobby dropped his cap on the bed with a rueful grin; "morons!" he chuckled.

xxxxx

Sam switched off the bathroom light and climbed into the bed beside his brother.

"G'night Bobby…" he murmured.

"G'night boys … " came Bobby's gruff voice, muffled by the blankets.

Silence settled over the room.

"Bitch, your feet are cold …" Dean's voice broke the silence.

"Idjits …!"

xxxxx

Bobby lay in the darkness staring at the ceiling. He was deeply touched by the Winchesters' concern for him and their kindness. He loved these boys as he would his own sons, but he was also a realist. He knew they had bridges to build after the recent terrible events and he was determined to give them the privacy to do that.

As the first light of dawn crept across the room, he slipped out of the bed. Glancing across to the other bed, he saw an untidy mop of dark hair spread across the pillow. Of Dean, who appeared to have been completely overpowered by both quilt and brother, the only visible sign was a bare foot hanging off the end of the bed.

Bobby scribbled a short note and left quickly, closing the door silently behind him with a fond smile.

xxxxx

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam stirred, and rolled over with a yawn. He stretched lavishly and almost punched his soundly sleeping brother in the side of the head.

It wasn't until he sat up, rubbing swollen, tender eyes that he noticed the other bed was empty.

Dean woke a few moments later to find Sam sitting at the table reading Bobby's note which talked about a pick-up job and having a lot of work down at the yard.

They didn't believe a word of it.

They knew exactly why Bobby had left them and they respected him all the more for it.

xxxxx

Sam made coffee and toast and the brothers sat at the table in content silence as they enjoyed their breakfast.

Dean put his coffee cup down, even the small weight of the mug elicited a pained wince. He looked down at the table.

"I'm sorry Sammy."

Sam looked at him, nonplussed, "what for?"

"I did some terrible, unforgivable things; I hurt Bobby, I hurt you - jeez, I tried to kill you!"

Sam shook his head and reached out to grasp his brother's hand. "You didn't, that thing did all that bad stuff." He stared intently into Dean's eyes, noticing the intense guilt there, "Dean, you know as well as anyone, all about being possessed."

"That's the thing," whispered Dean, leaning close into Sam; "I wasn't possessed, I was completely lucid the whole time - I can remember everything." He scrubbed a hand over his face; "I remember that if Bobby hadn't crowned me with that iron bar, you wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation with me. I would have drowned you and not given it a second thought."

"Bobby's warned us before about faerie magic," replied Sam, "it's real old and real dangerous - that's what he always says. Either way, it wasn't your fault."

"I can't describe it," muttered Dean, "the raw, overpowering need to be close to that thing; I don't think there's a word to describe it.” Sam sat quietly, allowing Dean to continue; "It's like, like waving a bloody steak in front of a starving dog or sailing a yacht to a drowning man, only hundreds - thousand times stronger."

Sam didn't interrupt, he just listened. Dean took a long, deep breath and Sam knew that whatever he was about to say was going to be painful for him.

"When that thing dragged me down under the water, I struggled and fought because that was my body's natural reaction. But when you dived in and pulled me out, and you took me away from it…" Dean's voice trembled and he stared down at the table, "… I hated you for doing it."

He looked up at Sam; a picture of abject misery.

"I know now," he added; "those guys that got killed and eaten - the twelve missing dudes … they weren't taken; they went willingly."

He picked up his empty mug and fiddled absently with it.

"Listen Dean," Sam stared at his brother, "I don't care if you were or weren't possessed, I don't care if you were or weren't hypnotised, or mesmerised or damnwell pasteurised. I don't care if it was faerie magic or demon magic, or some ass pulling a white rabbit out of a hat. All I know is you weren't in your right mind, so don't ask me to forgive you because there's nothing to forgive. Understand me?"

Dean stared at Sam for the longest time before a broad and genuine grin spread across his face.

"Okay, Sammy; whatever you say. How can I argue with a speech like that?"

xxxxx

Sam helped his brother shower and dress; the pain in his shoulders limiting his movement to an almost comical degree. They gave up trying slip his T shirt on when it became obvious he couldn't lift his arms more than a few inches, and so he just settled for a loose button-down shirt.

"We should get going". Dean announced, from his position sitting on the bed watching Sam clean up the breakfast things.

"Where?" asked Sam.

"Dunno!"

"Why don't we just rest up here?" asked Sam; "neither of us is up to travelling right now, it's beautiful, and we can relax and enjoy it now."

Dean pondered for a moment. "I don't know Sam; it's kinda lost it’s appeal to me," he sighed; "a man-eating, nutjob faerie horse with mind scrambling powers and a vindictive streak tends to do that to a place for me."

Bursting out laughing, Sam held his tender nose as he chuckled and snorted. Dean couldn't help but join him, flinching violently as the laughter jolted his shoulders.

"Hey, you OK man?" asked Sam, the laughter leaving his voice rapidly.

Dean grimaced, "freakin' shoulders feel like I've been bench pressing the Impala - I can hardly move." He sighed miserably, "I think you may be right about staying, there's no way I can drive like this."

He shuffled back on the bed to lean against the headboard, wincing pitifully with every laboured move. Sam raised his eyebrows and had to turn away to keep from smiling.

"I can't watch this a minute longer," Sam stood beside the bed, hands on hips, "it's like watching someone kick puppies."

Dean looked affronted.

"Get your shirt off."

Dean's eyebrows shot into his fringe. "What the hell?"

"I wanna see if I can help."

Dean looked nervous, "How?"

"Trust me."

Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Sammy …"

"Stop being a woman, an' get your shirt off!"

Dean fumbled clumsily with the buttons of his shirt, eyeing Sam suspiciously, as he slowly slipped it off over his shoulders taking care not to catch the gauze around his wrists.

"Roll over - on your front."

Dean briefly stared at Sam as if he had gone raving mad, but slowly eased himself down, and rolled onto his belly with a groan, arranging himself in the least uncomfortable position he could find.

He lay, face buried in the pillow feeling very vulnerable with Sam looming over his bare back.

"You’d better not put a spider on me…"

"Don't be such a girl!" Sam grinned, treating Sam to an unseen eyeroll.

He leaned over and gently grasped Dean's tense shoulders.

"Gonna give you a massage."

Dean looked up in astonishment, twisting to see if Sam was joking, or about to play some hideous joke involving ice or frogs or itching powder. He grunted as his shoulders protested at the movement.

Standing over Dean, Sam pushed him back down into the mattress.

"Chill out man", he grinned; " Jess used to suffer from a frozen shoulder when we were studying – she taught me one or two tricks …"

"I don't wanna know about the other ones," mumbled Dean into the pillow with a shudder.

"'fraid I don't have any aromatherapy oils like Jess used to have, you'll have to make do with moisturising lotion.

"You use moisturiser?"

"Dean, it's the 21st century, a lot of men do."

"Not REAL men."

"Yeah, well. Just 'cause I don't wanna walk around looking like I eat furniture, doesn't make me any less of a man than you!"

“You keep telling yourself that Samantha.”

xxxxx

Oblivious to the Dean’s insult, Sam began to knead the tense muscles across Dean’s shoulders; his strong fingers working the hard, twisted knots he felt there.

Dean dissolved deeper and deeper into the mattress as Sam's confident hands slid firmly up and down his neck, working across his shoulders with strong, relentless fingertips.

Sam finished his work with a firm sweep of both hands across the expanse of Dean’s much-relaxed shoulders. Satisfied with a job well done, he stood back and stretched the kinks out of his own aching back. "How's that feel bro'?"

“Zzzzzzz …”

"That good huh?"

xxxxx

It was three days before either of them felt up to moving on. During that time, Sam had heard whisperings of a possible job in Seattle, and so they packed up and put the natural splendour, great food and warm welcome of White Lake behind them with very mixed feelings.

Dean had ingraciously permitted Sam to drive owing to his healing wrists and the lingering, but much improved, stiffness in his shoulders.

The Impala had been on the road for less than ten minutes when Dean spoke up abruptly.

"Dude, stop the car!"

Sam looked at him in alarm, "what's wrong man, you gonna hurl?"

"No!" Dean barked, "jus' … jus’ stop. Please."

Sam pulled over.

Opening the door, Dean stepped out of the Impala. Sam followed him, concern driving his movements, "What's wrong man?"

Dean hushed him and scanned the deserted road; only featureless fields on either side.

"Don' know, just … well, just a feeling…"

Sam looked at him, perplexed.

In one of the fields, two horses stood beside the fence, Dean strode toward them.

The two horses looked up from their grazing, and the taller of the two ambled over to Dean.

Sam's jaw slowly dropped in astonishment.

The horse was a barrel-chested grey, it's pale mane and tail fluttered in the breeze. 

Dean smiled as it nuzzled him, huffing and snorting, and almost pushing him over.

"Hey, steady dude," laughed Dean; "hands - er - head off the merchandise!"

He bent down to rip up a handful of grass and fed it to the friendly animal, teasing its peach soft muzzle and running hands through its coarse forelock.

It gazed at him through soft brown eyes fringed with pale lashes.

It was wearing a green fabric harness. Sam's heart froze as he approached and recognised the 'Harpers' Saddlery' badge.

Disregarding Sam, Dean gently rubbed the horse's ear, whispering to it as it nuzzled and fussed him.

After a few moments, the horse stepped away, tossing its head briefly, it turned and trotted back to its darker grey companion.

Dean stood leaning on the fence, smiling as the two horses once again stood side by side, whittering softly to each other. He turned when he finally realised Sam was standing beside him.

"What was all that about?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to him. "He said thanks."

Sam stared at him. "Was that …?"

"Yeah." Dean smiled as the two horses looked up from their grazing and playfully butted heads.

"He thanked us." Dean turned to Sam with a blinding smile.

"He didn't say anything, but I knew exactly what he was telling me," he glanced back at the horses; "he was cold and lonely and frightened, until you released him from the enchantment. He was able to go back to his brother."

Sam looked at the two horses, "you heard him calling you?"

Dean thought for a moment; "Felt. Him calling me."

Dean turned to Sam. "That's his brother – the dark one. He missed him so much it broke his heart …"

The two brothers leaned on the fence and watched the two brothers grazing happily together in the afternoon sunlight.

Dean's fingertips strayed onto his brother's wrist.

xxxxx

end


End file.
